


you may see a stranger, across a crowded room

by wreckofherheart



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>That night, she holds him. Presses her chest to his back, and they fit together like a puzzle. Pieces dispersed within the waves, and discovered again; close. He embraces her warmth, her softness, her scent, and everything that might have mattered before is discarded from his memory.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Dark Lords won’t hunt him anymore.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Like a child, he instantly falls asleep, and his dreams are as kind as the girl who cradles his beaten soul.</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After Ganondorf's defeat, Medli stays by Link's side while his wounds heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you may see a stranger, across a crowded room

A mark is left. Quite like a tattoo, punctured into the flesh. It ceases to glow.

She knows that mark intimately well. Before, she had only read about the symbol in legends and fictional storybooks. The history of Hyrule has always fascinated her, although never has she been able to learn about it so vividly until now. 

And it’s all overwhelming. 

The Triforce has bruised Link’s hand, but it’s not the worst injury. While the medics on Dragon Roost are efficient, Link’s condition was a challenge. Broken bones, internal bleeding, stab wounds, infection––there was even concern he might have to lose a limb. Yet, after much labour, the medics managed to cure the young hero as best as they could.

Now, the most painful part, the _healing_ part, is on Link.

He drifts in and out of consciousness. Peacefully. Opens his eyes barely, before knocking his head back against the pillow again. Sometimes, his bandages need changing, and he is occasionally interrupted from his slumber. But, as always, Link is a man of few words, and doesn’t complain. If anything, he just falls straight back to sleep.

One late evening, he stirs, and smiles up at her. ‘How long?’

‘A fortnight.’

If he had any energy within him, Link would have expressed surprised. He closes his eyes, and exhales slowly between chapped lips. 

The sun has caught his cheeks. 

‘Medli? Will you stay?’

She reaches over to hold his hand, and it’s all the confirmation he requires.

 

 

 

 

What he dreams about are beautiful things. Vast hillsides, large buildings, men who carry a blade, and women who wear crowns. 

Only when his eyes are open, does he remember those beautiful things vanished beneath the waves.

Yet not all beauty is lost atop of the mountains. 

It is her harp. Magical. That is how Link has always described her music: magical. Not quite belonging to this world, but the world above: the heavens. She strums the strings so delicately, as if they were like petals, so tender they might _break_ at the slightest pull. The melody reflects the warmth which bathes his skin, and it is a melody he recognises. Intimately.

Turning his head, he lets out a sigh, and watches.

For a while, she doesn’t realise he is awake; she’s lost in her music, and Link is mesmerised. He discovers how the years have gone by unnoticed. How when they first met, they were only seventeen. Link’s journey lasted nearly five years in total––but all of those years simply felt like _days_. Only now is he able to appreciate the time gone by.

They are older; wiser. Perhaps for the best, and perhaps not. 

But while he observes his friend perform to an invisible audience, he thinks how her face is no longer as cute and youthful as it was when they were merely children. Now she’s taller, much more agile with her wings, and the contrast of her dark eyes and pale skin is no longer cute, but beautiful. Link blushes at this revelation. He can only imagine how his appearance has changed as well. Undoubtedly not as pleasant as Medli’s.

Then again, he hasn’t seen a mirror in months.

Suddenly Medli stops playing. ‘Oh! I didn’t wake you, did I?’

‘Hm?’ Link looks at her, brows raised. He chuckles. ‘No, no.’ He hesitates. ‘Uh, actually––if you could keep playing?’

Concern passes her eyes, but, after a brief thought, she obliges. Link allows his eyes to flutter shut, and her melody returns him to wondrous slumber. 

 

 

 

 

 

The bandages are clean this time. For the first time. The bleeding has finally stopped, and now the wounds are able to scar. For the sake of hygiene, though, his bandages are changed, and Medli takes this opportunity to inspect his wounds.

First she examines the jagged cut from his chest to his belly. This had been the most worrisome, but, apparently, Link has recovered impeccably well. ‘You’re looking very good, Link,’ she says, happiness in her tone. It’s been a while since Link has heard it, so he smiles.

‘Thank you. How long do you think I need to remain bed-ridden for?’

‘Not too long. Can you sit up for me?’

Link strains against the pain in his ribs, but succeeds. While Medli proceeds to wrap the bandages around his wound, Link says, ‘Have you heard anything from Tetra?’

‘She came by a few days ago, with the intention to return soon.’ Medli retreats slightly, and pauses in her work. ‘I don’t think she likes staying in one place for a long period of time.’

Really, Link isn’t surprised. The poor girl has been trapped under the earth for weeks, with nobody to talk to. He has no doubt she was desperate to sail the seas as soon as she was able. So he doesn’t take her impatience personally.

‘And Prince Komali?’

‘Fine. He won’t stop talking about you.’ They share a smile. Link is aware of Komali’s idolisation over him; it’s sweet. Healthy for the young Prince to have somebody to look up to. ‘You’ve really inspired him, which is more than I could ever do.’

Link isn’t comfortable with that statement. ‘You helped me along the way. Without you, we wouldn’t be here now.’

‘I suppose so. Please hold still a moment.’ She finishes her work, tucking in the loose end of the bandage. ‘May I check on your right thigh? The medics need an update on your injury.’ Link nods in consent, and Medli pushes aside the sheets. His state of undress doesn’t perplex her, and despite his blushing, Link isn’t too fussed.

After all, they’ve been through so much together, nakedness is hardly anything unusual.

She is soft with him, which Link expects, but also thorough. Link guesses Medli has had brief medical training in case the Prince ever fall to injury in her presence. However, she is a studier at heart, so he has a feeling she knows a great deal more to infections and body wounds than she’s letting in on. Link couldn’t feel safer with anybody else.

Carefully she peels away the plaster. Link swallows at the sight. 

‘Much cleaner,’ she says, ‘Which is a relief!’ Link looks up at her in question. ‘Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you, but we were prepared for an amputation. Fortunately, that won’t be necessary.’

‘Did you expect anything less from me?’

An emotion passes her eyes. One he doesn’t catch. ‘I’ll be gentle, I promise.’ She bathes the wound in warm water and salt. Pressing the cloth to his injury, Link hisses, clenching the bedsheets, but that is his only complaint. Medli sticks to her promise: she is gentle. 

Busying herself with replacing the plaster, Link steals a few glances. He notices how _calm_ her expression is when she concentrates; no frowning whatsoever, and still complete concentration. As if Link’s injury is all she can focus on, and nothing else. Her hands are small, fingers as delicate as they were when she played her harp.

It’s bizarre how somebody so small can carry him with only her wings. How somebody so small can possess so much intelligence. Link can see why Komali holds Medli in such high esteem. But, in a way, he’s always known why. 

To not admire somebody like her would be a challenge.

‘There. Much better.’ She returns the sheets over his body. 

‘You’re too kind,’ he blurts out. ‘I really appreciate you doing this.’

Clearly Medli isn’t complimented enough, because she stumbles over her words. ‘I––uh, it’s the least I can do.’ She steps away from the bed, and opens the window, allowing a breeze to cool the room. ‘Would you like a drink? I’m afraid we don’t have much to offer here, but…’

‘Yes, please.’

She holds his gaze momentarily, a fondness in her eyes, before passing his bed and towards the door. Before she leaves, Link stops her short.

‘I was never able to thank you for assisting me––before. We had to depart so suddenly, and I was really sad to leave you. Were you all right afterwards? I know that I must have strained you a lot, what with you having to carry me everywhere.’

‘Helping you was an honour,’ she bows her head respectively, ‘I hope you don’t think otherwise.’ She twitches a smile. ‘There was some bruising, yes, but all for a greater good.’ His reluctance to leave her hangs in her mind, but she doesn’t acknowledge that. Not explicitly, anyway. ‘Try and rest some more. I’ll be back soon.’

Soon is hard. Eager to see her again, Link tries his hardest to remain awake, but his injuries cry out for rest, and he eventually gives in. 

 

 

 

 

 

Rain. It hasn’t rained in weeks, and the Rito celebrate. Their harvest will be good this year. 

Link lies awake, listening to the _pitter-patter_. He feels soothed, is reminded of home, and that’s when he thinks about his grandmother, his sister. A letter arrived this morning from the two of them, wishing him to return home the moment he’s recovered. Due to her elderly age, and her sister’s rather traumatic experience, Link is pleased they haven’t sailed all this way to see him.

They have waited.

He hears Medli turn the page of her book. 

‘Can you fly in this weather?’

‘Some of us can. The infants struggle because the rain always gets in their eyes. One has to be accustomed to the strain.’

‘Yes, but can _you_?’ He looks over at her, and finds her smirk fetching.

‘Of course I can. I hate to brag, but I, alongside only two other inhabitants, are able to fly in stormy weather.’

‘Well, aren’t you _important_ ,’ he teases, grinning.

‘The wind is a pain. When I was younger… Never mind.’

‘Tell me.’ Link winces when he rolls over onto his side. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

Medli drops her gaze to her book, before closing it. ‘I don’t really talk about myself.’

‘I gathered that.’

She shrugs. Timid. ‘When I was younger, I was desperate to impress my tutor: Komali’s grandmother. So, I would spend every night, after my duties, flying. I had to be perfect. I had to make her proud of me. It was the wind I couldn’t cope with––it would always force me into the wrong direction, or it would be too heavy to fight against, so my wings would be useless. Every Rito struggles with something: for Komali, it was his landing.’

Link laughs. ‘Really?’

‘He grew angry with himself very easily. I told him that the only way he could succeed was if he practiced. Just like me, he would train every night, after his errands were done. It took him some time, but he did it.’ She fiddles with a page. ‘Komali is stubborn. I know that. But he tries.’ She looks at Link. ‘He makes me proud.’

A pinch in his waist causes Link to grimace. ‘Well, he’s had a good teacher. He’s lucky.’ Link misses her expression, because the pain becomes unbearable, and he has to move. ‘Ouch.’

‘Please, you’re not all right.’ Medli places her book down, hurries over to his side. ‘Where does it hurt?’

‘Here.’ He rests a hand on his stomach. ‘It’s fine.’

Medli ignores him. She lets her palm pass his wound, ‘Lie back. You’re not better yet.’ Her commands are delivered tenderly. There is no force in her words, but Link knows she’s not giving him an option. Medli helps him position himself comfortably, and he grabs her sleeve.

She blinks, and holds his hand. Link groans, scrunching his eyes shut. 

‘I hate how much it hurts me.’

‘The pain will subside. Your body is worn out. Give it time.’

‘For a moment, I thought I had lost.’ Link can still visit every single emotion he endured when he faced Ganondorf, when he had to watch his best friend being knocked about. ‘There was a moment––’ he swallows, ‘––where I just _gave up_. Ganondorf had won. I _let_ him win. I had no strength left in me to take him down, and I knew I would die down there.’ He opens his eyes partially, and Medli tries to ignore the tears which scar his cheeks. ‘I would have died down there with Tetra, and nobody would have known.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ Medli whispers. And she can’t do it: she can’t ignore his pain, his tears, how he’s trying to hold back a cry, but everything just _pours_. She brushes his cheek with the back of her hand, wiping away any stray tears. Link catches his breath, and leans into her touch. ‘We all would have known. Your family hadn’t forgotten about you, after all. Link?’

She slides her hand down to his chest, and he looks up at her, with tired eyes.

‘You’re focussing on something which is so irrelevant. You _did_ win. You don’t have to tell anybody what you just told me, but there’s no shame in giving up. You could only endure so much; no one expected the impossible from you. It’s okay.’

Those final words are a remedy in his mind. He cradles them close. _It’s okay_. It’s okay to give up, it’s okay to lose; it’s okay to cry. Link reaches up for her hand, and squeezes tightly, refusing to let go. Perhaps he hasn’t felt affection in so long, or perhaps he just can’t _take it anymore_. Whatever it is, Link _clings_ onto Medli, helpless and sore.

She sees trauma and nightmare in those eyes, and that _hurts_. The years, themselves, haven’t aged him, but what _happened_ in those years. Those monsters he had to face, the losses and everything _fucked up_ that he was forced to go through alone.

But he won.

Link won. And his name will be written down in the legends, in the storybooks, and, yet, no one will know what actually occurred; the thoughts which ran through his mind, the girl he had to clutch onto just so he could maintain his own sanity.

They don’t talk about a soldier’s horror.

For it destroys the glamour.

 

 

 

 

 

That night, she holds him. Presses her chest to his back, and they fit together like a puzzle. Pieces dispersed within the waves, and discovered again; close. He embraces her warmth, her softness, her scent, and everything that might have mattered before is discarded from his memory. 

Dark Lords won’t hunt him anymore.

Like a child, he instantly falls asleep, and his dreams are as kind as the girl who cradles his beaten soul.

 

 

 

 

 

Slow. Healing is slow.

And then healing _happens_. Medli carefully helps Link out of bed for the first time in weeks, and he laughs, overjoyed, amazed that his legs can balance his body. She nearly kisses him then. For how grateful he is, how life awes him. How he continues to hope, even when he has been torn apart, mentally and physically. 

He walks, leaning some of his weight on Medli, and they spend most of the day venturing around Dragon Roost. The locals greet them as they pass, asking Link on his condition, and Link is surprised at how everybody on the island seems to know who he is. The boy who saved not only Valoo, but the entire world. A million owe him their lives.

The sand feels good between his toes. The sun gorgeous and hot on his skin. The sea water cool on his legs. 

His scarred, unshaven face is beautiful. And it’s effortless to fall in love with Link. He steps further and further into the sea, splashing the water across his thin frame. She thinks he’s perfect and old and everything she’s known him to be.

‘I’m going to try and swim.’

‘Go ahead.’

Link grins, and eases himself deeper.

‘Don’t go too far please!’ She says frantically.

‘Why? Too scared to follow me?’ He peers at her from over his shoulder. ‘Didn’t your ancestors love the water?’

This takes her aback. She widens her eyes. ’How do you know that?’

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Link just smiles, a knowing smile, as if they both share a secret only they are privy to. 

A history only they whisper together.

 

 

 

 

 

Link walks, and then he runs, and when he’s able to hold himself and fight again, Medli gifts him with a view. She carries him to one of the highest mountaintops on Dragon Roost, higher than Link has ever been, and the Great Sea is his own to behold.

Every single island lies before him. Every slab of land, discovered or not, is shadowed by the sunset, and his heart skips a beat. Never has he seen so many colours in his life. This is the kind of place only those with wings can reach, and as a man who can only use his feet, Link knows that he shall never take this for granted.

The waves appear tame this high up. A still, deep blue; trails of white as the tiny waves crash into each other. Link sighs, and nearly falls to his knees. This is what he has saved, this is why he has had to heal; this is why it was all worth the agony.

‘I didn’t know the world was so big,’ he gasps.

Medli smiles, quiet. 

For some reason, his statement breaks her heart.

Grounded to the earth, and only knowing his own home, of course Link had no idea there was an entire planet for him to discover.

And now, here it is, overwhelming him.

 

 

 

 

 

The thought jolts Medli awake. 

Losing the battle.

It is not herself she thinks about, but the boy lying beside her. The words he spoke not too long ago, about giving in, about surrendering, about losing the will to _live_. Perhaps she’s tired. Nursing Link has been arduous, but it can’t be that. It can’t be that which troubles her so, but the actual _thought_ that, _yes_ , Link had given up.

Whatever happened down there, she shall never know. Maybe Link will never tell her, maybe he _can’t_ tell her, but whatever saved him, whatever pushed him back onto his feet, she is forever thankful for. Whoever, or whatever, that might have been.

‘Medli?’

At the sound of his drowsy voice, Medli winces in embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry: I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘What…?’ He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. ‘What’s wrong?’

’Nothing. Go back to sleep.’

Link squints at her. It’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but she can make out his expression. ‘I can’t sleep anyway,’ he lies, sitting upright. ‘You need to talk?’

‘I need you to sleep. Sorry. I shall leave, and let you rest in peace.’

‘Don’t go.’ He grabs her wrist. Perhaps he should have used better words, but Link is still half asleep, and the last thing he wants is for Medli to _leave_ him. ‘Don’t go––please. I really don’t want you to go away.’ He gently pulls her towards him. 

And his arms circle her waist, before he brings her down with him. Lets her rest on his chest, his body wrapped around hers. The boy is steady, and his chest rises and falls while he breathes, while sleep takes over once again, and she listens: listens to his heart. How it _thud, thud, thuds_ against her ear, how he lives, how he survives.

She clings onto him, and nearly cries at his vulnerability. 

 

 

 

 

 

Each time his blade swipes the wooden target, splinters scatter across the sand. Komali applauds at Link’s growing strength, how brilliant his aim is. He asks for another target to be brought out for Link to practice on; the one he has been using barely stands now.

Link is pleased. Pleased he has his strength back, and pleased he can still protect those he loves with the point of a sword.

He will be a knight again.

‘Am I set to leave soon?’

All of his bandages have been removed, now at the mercy of fresh air. Medli nods happily. ‘Yes, I’m sure your family will be overjoyed once you inform them.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to join me? Come and see them too?’

Medli smiles. ‘I appreciate that, but I must remain here. Unfortunately, I’m relatively confined to this island while I remain Valoo’s attendant.’

Link’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. But he doesn’t let her know.

‘Ah, well.’

‘Maybe another day?’

This time, he isn’t sure whether to believe her. Medli is fully devoted to her duty; more so than anybody Link has met. ‘I wrote about you,’ he confesses. ‘I wrote about you in my letters to my grandmother. I said how, well, how you stuck with me throughout my recovery. And how you aided me in defeating Ganondorf. She would really like to meet you.’

‘Link,’ she breathes. ‘You speak too highly of me.’

‘If anything, I don’t speak about you as much as I should––as much as I’d like to.’ She frowns, puzzled by what he means. Link reluctantly decides to leave the matter alone. ‘Don’t worry. Like you said, there will be another day.’ Neither smile, neither believe in those words, and, this time around, Link struggles to hide his sadness. ‘I’m going to really miss you.’

She’s good at masking her emotions, Link realises, because when Medli reacts, it is subtle. Perhaps more out of politeness than anything, she says, ‘I’ll miss you as well.’ She passes him, and touches his arm briefly. ‘You’ll be okay, Link.’

Maybe he will. Without her, maybe he will.

After so long, however, _okay_ simply isn’t enough.

 

 

 

 

 

Link has thrown aside his green tunic. To him, the garment has become unnecessary. Now whatever path lies beyond will not be determined by the clothes on his back. He can be free from his destiny, and so he expresses this. He wears the clothes the Rito have given him, and Komali even insists he take home one of his lavish robes.

The boy shaves, cuts his lanky hair, and he’s young again. 

Will his grandmother even recognise him though? His face has changed so much since he last visited her. He chews on the inside of his lip. ‘I’m actually nervous,’ he laughs shakily.

‘What about?’

‘Maybe she won’t recognise me.’

She ties the string closing the gap in his top. ‘Now you’re just being silly.’

‘I guess,’ he mumbles.

Medli stops, and looks at him. ‘She’ll recognise you. They all will. You have nothing to fear.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come with me?’

_No._ No, she’s not sure. She may not act it, but Medli is sure about very _few_ things, and this is only one lost in the mix. She’s not sure if she would like to jump into Link’s yacht, and sail away; leave behind everything she’s worked so _hard_ to gain.

Medli can’t do that. Maybe another girl, a smarter girl, could. But she can’t.

‘What do you intend to do afterwards?’

‘Explore. There are so many places I have yet to discover. Which is so _weird_. I spent many years travelling, I learnt so much, but there’s still a great deal I don’t know about.’

‘You’ll learn.’ 

‘I suppose I’ll have to, won’t I?’

Medli finishes tying the string, pauses, and her hands pass his chest. Link tries to smile at her, but her lack of enthusiasm upsets him. It’s ridiculous that he craves her approval, but she’s the wisest person he knows. He needs her to approve, to support him; to guide him.

It takes some effort, to push her confidence, but she eventually meets his gaze. His eyes are unusually bright, brighter than any she’s witnessed and they are nothing like hers. Not scarlet, dark and filled with warmth. They could study each other for minutes, be amazed at each other until the sun settled beneath the sea, and, even then, there would still be so much for them to be left in awe at.

Link is conscious of his heart.

How it flutters so quickly, he might faint.

Might collapse here and now. And how ironic that would be: this great hero, swooning over a girl.

The idea makes him chuckle. 

‘What’s wrong?’

And how could there be _anything_ wrong? How could any of this, how could _they_ , how could _she_ give him something to feel wrong about? Gods, nothing could ever be wrong around this optimistic girl; how she makes the rain and freeze appear as delightful as sunshine. 

Link kisses her. He kisses her because whatever else is there left to do?

She tastes of sea salt, the clouds which roam the skies, and snow. He kisses her, smiling, without any doubt in his mind that this is where he would rather be. 

It takes a moment, a long moment, until she finally reacts. Her fingers comb softly through his hair, and he presses his palms into her waist, kissing her and kissing her until his lips grow sore, and his vision is blurred with joy. 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Medli?’

He has whispered her name multiple names, dazed and shaken by how she takes him; wrapped in one another, moving together. He’s soft, hesitant and shy, and they suddenly feel so small in each other. Nervous, curious but certain. He touches her, and she touches him, and they just _fit_. He gasps, cuddling her so close to his chest.

Nothing could snatch him away from her; not now.

‘Will you stay?’

Before the words tumble from his lips, he knows. She kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, and then she kisses him. A quiet moan escapes him as he rocks into her, and she holds him close, lets him know that she has no intention to stray far.

 

 

 

 

 

At dawn, he sets sail, throwing into the yacht a bag of supplies, before sitting on the edge, pulling on his shoes. If all goes well, he should arrive on Outset before the afternoon. Naturally, Link is still nervous, but at least he’s no longer trembling. 

Link is coming home.

‘Tell Prince Komali I thanked him for his hospitality. I shall visit him soon.’

‘Of course. Have a safe journey.’

Standing to his feet, he prepares himself to ask again––whether she’ll join him, even if only for a day––but, perhaps he’s learnt his lesson, or he knows her better. Because he gives up on asking, and settles in the fact that if this is _close_ , if this is what they shall share together, then it’s enough. 

He nearly confesses three words which have driven him mad all of these weeks.

Stops himself again.

Because she knows. He’s shown that much.

‘Thank you for waiting for me,’ he says. ‘For waiting by my side.’

How many days, weeks, hours it had taken away from her, Medli had stayed. Consistently.

‘You’re welcome, Link.’

And it’s clear: he would have done the same. Medli assists in preparing the yacht, and once it reaches the water, Link raises the sail, balances himself, and walks over to the edge. He leans over to kiss her, with a hope that it will be one of many.

That, this, _they_ ––it will all be enough.

 


End file.
